Voyage of the Hayden (The Adventures of Christopher Slone Book 1)

by Donald Nicklas

  Bridge security activated the condition yellow button and throughout the ship the computer blurted, “General Quarters. All crew to Battle stations for system entry. Set condition Yellow.”

  Outside the great windows of the bridge, the forward view was still a bright field of light and all behind was pitch black. If it were not for the computers telling them of their imminent arrival, there would be nothing to indicate it. “Navigation, how long till we arrive at the heliosphere of the system?”

  “Fifteen minutes, Captain.”

  The heliosphere of all star systems marks the boundary between the star system and interstellar space. The star-wind and slipstreams do not cross the heliosphere and a slower form of star-wind, called system weather, is found within the heliosphere. All faster than light travel will cease at the crossing of the heliosphere, however, humans learned through sad experience that it is best to drop out just before reaching the heliosphere; otherwise, one could run right into a comet nucleus present in a cloud around all systems called an Ort cloud.

  “Navigation, depolarize the sails.”

  “Depolarizing the sails, sir.”

  The navigator pushed some buttons, the electrical charge that allowed the sails to attract the star-wind was removed, the ship instantly dropped out of light speed, and the slipstream was gone. Stars appeared behind the ship; the whiteout in front of the ship vanished like a torn curtain as Bickle’s star and her planets lay before the Hayden.

  “Retract the sails and tell engineering to give us full engine power. Navigator, set course for the core-ward slipstream so we prevent our dumb ore ship from ruining our rescue, if the yacht is in her way. Sparks, what about that message beacon.”

  “I have it located sir.”

  “Send the data stream to the ship’s computer.”

  “Sir, there is no data stream. The message is voice only and not secured. It is a distress call from Purgatory.”

  Every eye on the bridge moved over to affix onto the communications tech. From him they moved onto the Captain. “Pipe it to the bridge speakers only, primary and CIC.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The communications tech did the proper routing and started the message. “This is an urgent message to all ships in any systems these pods reach. This is mining base sector 42, number M537796731, also called Purgatory. We are under heavy attack. Our protective cruiser the SS San Juan is engaging the enemy but all indications are that it will be futile and she will be disabled or destroyed. The attacking force consists of a dreadnought class and two destroyers. The latter are using ship-to-ship missiles and I assume they have ship to ground missiles as well. We have activated base defense systems and have moved all families and other non-combatants deeper underground. Our second cruiser, SS Hayden is detached on a mission but we have sent a pod to them. I don’t know how long we can hold out if they continue to attack us. We’ll continue to send message pods as long as possible.”

  The base commander’s voice was followed by a metallic computer voice announcing, “This has been an official emergency broadcast from Captain William Albright, Commander, mining base 42- M537796731. Official signature verified. This is not a drill. End of message.”

  The bridge crew sat in stunned disbelief as what they had just heard sank in. Most had families on Purgatory and all knew the base had little defense against a dreadnought if she drops nukes on them. Slone could read their minds on their faces.

  “Navigation, plot us a course back home. How long will it take and how many jumps?”

  “There’s no direct slipstream back. We’ll have to pass through one system. The time spent combined in the slipstreams, if we can get fast flows, is a minimum of 29 hours under perfect conditions. In-system times to cross from slipstream to slipstream can only be determined when we arrive.”

  “We have to try, set the course.”

  “What about our mission here.”

  “A lost yacht will still be lost after we take care of home. We’ll come back then.”

  “Aye sir, course laid in.”

  “Captain, commander Stueber is calling from the CIC.”

  “Put him to my station. What a mess Hans. Who in their right mind would attack a Sinclair mining station? Sinclair has more resources than any other corporate government and a larger navy. And where would a bunch of pirates get a dreadnought?”

  “Guess we have to wait till we get there to find out,” the first officer replied.

  “You can stand down on the CIC till we know more.” Slone closed the communication to the CIC and turned to the navigator.

  “How long to the return slipstream?”

  The navigator waited for the computer to calculate the answer. The distance from slipstream to slipstream across a system never varied, but the alignment of the planets, planetoids, moons and various space objects were in constant flux. As a result, the time to cross a system depended on distance, as well as what spacers came to know as the “dodge factor”. Gravity wells could either slow you down or speed you up and every object exerted gravity and was trying to pull you off course. “Computer calculates 12hrs, 23 min at full speed, sir.”

  “It’s going to be a long day. Set full speed to the slipstream.”

  “Aye, sir,” the navigator responded. “Engine room acknowledges, full speed.”

  “Set condition green throughout the ship and let me know when we can enter the slipstream. Sparks look sharp for any further communication pods and send one of our pods through ahead of us transmitting only our recognition codes. I don’t want the enemy catching onto the fact that we are on our way back.”

  Slone received acknowledgements from all of the bridge stations indicating they understood what needed to be done. He left the bridge after having his first officer come up from the CIC to take the conning of the ship. Soon both would be on downtime and he wanted Stueber to be fully aware of what was happening. The CIC was designed in a bygone era to fight the ship when all other function was lost. All systems were hard-wired and shielded but that also meant they were antiquated and had limited functions. Most of what transpired on the main bridge escaped them and it had become habit to leave the communication channels open between the main bridge and CIC so the latter could, at least, hear what was going on. Stueber went into the ready room once the ship was well clear of any entrance point and smoothly traversing the system. Slone was already sitting there having a cup of what passed for coffee in the 32nd century. Stueber sat down opposite the captain on a small table near the food dispenser. “I can’t wrap my head around this, Chris. Who the hell are these people?”

  “I wish I knew, Hans. We have nothing to go on. I doubt they’re pirates, not with a dreadnought and two destroyers. The message didn’t identify them so, either they had no markings, unfamiliar ones or Purgatory had no time to look.”

  “Heard of any corporate claim jumping or takeovers in the wind? I thought all this corporate wars stuff was over more than a century ago.”

  “We are all part of the Sinclair Corporation military, and all the fleets out there belong to one Corporation or another. The corporations have been governing us since the 22nd century. If this is the start of another corporate war, it’s going to get bloody very fast. What I don’t understand is why we weren’t given a heads up for trouble brewing. Sinclair spies are usually better than that. The other thing that puzzles me is, why Purgatory? We are in the middle of nowhere and we have no strategic value. What we mine is widely available.”

  “Well we wanted some action, Chris; I guess we got our wish.”

  “If we have to go up against a dreadnought and two destroyers, it won’t be our war for very long. We need some kind of strategy before we get there.”

  “Agreed.”

  For the next several hours, the Captain and First Officer of the Hayden ran through each scenario of single-handedly fighting a battle with a small fleet. Each simulation ended with more or less damage on the enemy but total destruction of the Hayden. No matter how they loo
ked at it, it was a suicide mission. More and more of the ship’s officers were brought into the conversation until the ready room was filled with people. After five hours of little progress, the intercom from the bridge whistled and Slone answered it.

  “Captain, I think we found the yacht and she’s on our course.”

  Glad for the diversion, since his head was aching from worst-case scenarios, Slone went to the bridge. After the usual announcement of his presence on the bridge, Slone turned to the navigator. “What do you have?”

  “We will be passing close to the first planet in about an hour. Sensors detect a small vessel in orbit. Size is about right for our missing yacht.”

  “Any life signs?”

  “Some electrical activity but too far to read life.”

  Slone thought for a moment then hit the intercom on the arm of the captain’s chair. “Major Sardac, please report to the bridge.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  A few minutes later, the trim marine commander reported to the captain and snapped a textbook salute. Slone admired his Marine commander. Her slim appearance masked a solid body that brooked no compromise. She was by the book Marine Corps and he had seen her bring new recruits to their knees in practice combat, though they out massed her three to one. She knew how to use leverage. Slone had to admit, he liked her looks.

  “Commander, there is a small vessel in orbit around the fist planet. Send a recon squad over to it and see if it’s the yacht, we were sent here for. Don’t command it yourself; I need you here to discuss tactics for the coming battle.”

  “Yes sir, but I would have thought you’d have called me in already.”

  “I would have but none of our scenarios bring us close enough to board so I was planning on discussing repulsion with you later, if we survive long enough to be boarded.”

  “Let me take care of that recon and we can talk.”

  “Carry on.”

  Slone returned to the conference, the recon ship went out and the Hayden continued on her heading. The recon vessel was a small, shuttlecraft that held six troops, which included the pilot, and had some cargo space for whatever the mission called for. In this case, they took along some cutting torches if needed for access and various electronics to see if they could reclaim the Yacht. It is always easier to fly than tow a ship. The recon ship was much faster than the Hayden was but with limited range. She was not light capable with her sails, and often had to use them in-system to capture lesser star-winds and increase that limited range. When she was clear of the Hayden, she deployed her sails and picked up the star-wind. Slone always admired the way the smaller ships could run completely free of fuel, but it took a great deal of skill to sail the swirls and eddies in the system star-winds that often required course changes and tacking. The big ships could not do that due to their mass. The wind inside the systems was just too weak. In a pinch, however, they could use their sails to boost their engines. Slone watched the recon ship glide beautifully towards the first planet. “How long before they arrive?”

  “About 45 Minutes.” Sardac responded. They were watching the vessel’s progress through the large window in the ready room. Sardac had joined the group and they were deep in discussion about boarding and repelling tactics, when the intercom from the bridge once again sounded. They were now five and a half hours into the system traverse.

  “Captain here,” Slone answered.

  “Captain, sensors indicate a ship is coming out of the Purgatory slipstream.

  “Our ore-hauler?”

  “Not likely, she isn’t due in-system for a little over eight hours. The mass is less than the ore hauler. Based on slipstream displacement, the mass is consistent with a dreadnought class ship.”

  “Set condition yellow but do not call battle stations. On my way to the bridge.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Slone entered the bridge and asked for a report. “The vessel is out of the slipstream and is moving full speed in our direction. Sensors confirm dreadnought class.” The bridge crew looked at each other. They knew the import of that information.

  “How long till she reaches us?”

  “Not before we reach the slipstream, but she will decrease the gap by two hours each system.” The navigator reported. “By the time we enter the last slipstream, we’ll come out at Purgatory at the same time. No time to maneuver then.”

  “What does the next system look like?”

  “Not much. A blue-white giant with only two planets and a bunch of asteroids. No place to hide and a lot of gravity to fight.”

  Slone gave some thoughts to the problem. There was only one conclusion he could come to. “Sparks, recall the recon squad. We will do battle here. Navigation, set course for the gas giant on the far side of the star and slowly swing the ship around the red dwarf and head back to the incoming slipstream.”

  “After digesting the last order, the first officer knew Slone had an idea for the fight.”

  The Hayden slowly turned to loop around the star and the long race to combat started. The Battle of Bickle’s star still lay many hours and many maneuvers ahead.

  Chapter 2 - The Battle of Bickle’s Star

  Slone thought about all of the science fiction stories he had read from the earliest days of space travel. They talked about space battles that happened across systems with energy weapons crossing the distance between ships and hitting energy shields on the other ships. How less exotic reality was. Space is a natural dissipater of energy. The power of an energy weapon is quickly lost in the emptiness of space. Fortunately, space combat started before energy weapons were mass-produced and the world powers had to fall back on the tried and true. Projectiles are the most reliable weapons, both as personal weapons and as ship weapons. All ships carried only two types of weapons, cannons and missiles. These had limited range and most space battles consisted of hours of maneuvering for one or two devastating minutes of combat. There were no magical shields. The energy fields covering the shuttle bays and gun ports are not meant for protection. The fields only seal in atmosphere but allow all solid objects to pass through. The only protection was the hull of the ship, and that could only stop so much. Space combat was similar to historical combat between great sailing vessels on the oceans of earth, a combination of slugfest and boarding. Despite millennia of advancement, combat remained a personal affair.

  The Hayden was starting her arch towards the rim of the Bickle's star. The red dwarf loomed ever larger in the bridge windows.

  "Captain, the dreadnought has fired two missiles."

  "At this range? They are half a system away. Guess they were carrying too many missiles."

  "Missile fuel has been spent. The dwarf is pulling them in."

  Slone turned to his first officer who was still standing next to him on the bridge. “What do you think that was all about, Hans? I’ve never seen a commander fire missiles at that range. Were they firing at something else?”

  The navigator responded to the question. “Nothing else out there except the Yacht, and those missiles were not fired in the direction of the first planet. They literally wasted two missiles.”

  “Most curious. Hans get some rest while we maneuver. It will be 6-8 hours before we achieve an attack stance. Sparks, put me through to the crew chief.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Chief Halac. We will enter combat in 6-8 hours. Make sure all systems are ready and have the weapons checked and double-checked. Have all gunners get some rack time and operate the ship with a minimum crew. I want everyone well rested.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Sparks, get me Major Sardac.”

  The voice of the Marine commander came on, “Yes, sir?”

  “Major, have your marines well rested and ready for any eventuality. We may be boarding or repelling sooner than we thought.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll be ready.”

  No further weapon discharges occurred and the Hayden settled into a calm, quiet mode of anticipation. The bridge crew was alert t
o all changes. The dreadnought was about 10% faster than the Hayden was, so as they rounded the dwarf, the distance began to close. The mass of the star between kept the ships apart, but not forever. Five hours into the martial dance, the dwarf was solidly between the belligerents. Slone ordered a downward angle of 45 degrees to drop the Hayden below the star. The Hayden was attempting to return to the vicinity of the entrance slipstream to take advantage of the larger number of orbiting bodies there. To stand even the slightest chance against the larger ship, they needed luck and a cat and mouse tactic. Hit and run will be the order of the day. They came out from the lower pole of the star and headed for the shelter of the nearest gas giant and her moons. The dreadnought was just coming around the star and the Hayden had managed to add some distance due to the shortcut. It would soon be time to end the dance.

  “Set ship status to condition red. Call battle stations.”

  The crew sprang to life and ran to their battle stations. Five fully armed and equipped marines entered the bridge to take their posts near the two entrances. This is a precaution should boarders need to be repelled. The various areas throughout the ship readied themselves for combat. When all departments reported ready, the bulkhead doors closed, effectively turning the ship into a series of sealed, tubular sections allowing loss of pressure in one not to affect the others. All materials needed to defend each section were ready at hand along with five marines in each of the 10 sections for boarding defense. Should a breach occur, a portable force shield was at hand to temporarily plug any hull leaks. The remaining 45 marines were in space gear and waiting with boarding scooters in the hangar bays, should there be an opportunity to board the enemy vessel. Slone was proud of the fact that all departments reported ready in 15 min from the sounding of general quarters.

  “Open the combat channel.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Because of the need to service the guns, it proved impractical to control the weapons from the bridge. The missiles were automated and controlled from the bridge, but the cannons needed humans to feed them, as jamming was a problem when they were automated. In addition, if hit in combat, only humans at the site had a chance of getting them going again. The combat channel was a two way, ship wide communication that allowed the captain to give orders directly during battle without need for any intermediaries.